


Silver Bullets

by painty



Series: Across Time and Space [3]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Across Time and Space (ATAS), Anger, Angst, Attempted Suicide, Depression, Fox Mulder really needs some help, Grief, Jealousy, Other, Prequel oneshot to Across Time and Space, Sadness, breakdown - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 06:20:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11663382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painty/pseuds/painty
Summary: Mulder attempts suicide while dwelling on the thoughts of his past, present, and future. Pre-shot to Across Time and Space (2).





	Silver Bullets

Just wrote this oneshot. Set somewhere after beating up Collin and before meeting Rodrick. Pre-shot to my story Across Time and Space.

tw;; suicide attempt, angsty thoughts.

It was a dark, dark night. No stars twinkled in the sky, a soft sheet of clouds covering any light emitting from the moon. No locusts or grasshoppers made their noise, hardly a wind to rustle the tree branches. It was cold and bitter outside, unwelcoming and unpleasant.

Mulder stared down at the street from his apartment window. He didn't know what time it was. The FBI Agent stood emotionless, his hands fallen down by his sides. His hazel eyes were glossy and dark bags were visible underneath, his hair shaggy and unkept. The male let out a pitiful sigh, feeling his heart weigh down in his chest.

He turned and walked into his living room. Mulder sat on the couch, turned the TV on and stared at a blank screen for a long time. Hours, maybe. By the time he actually bothered to look at the clock it was 4:25 in the morning. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. Mulder wanted to sleep forever but he didn't let himself. He wanted torture. To at least feel something, instead of this buzzing nothingness that swallowed his mind every day and every night. He couldn't even work a case.

Mulder knew why this was. After beating the shit out of Collin the FBI Agent had felt horrible. The guilt ate away at his insides, tearing him apart and ripping open his heart. He'd fallen. He was defeated. Every inch of faith the hazel-eyed man had somehow kept inside was completely shadowed by every other terrible emotion at the moment.

His shoulders slumped. His gaze trailed to the floor. He was so empty. Mulder honestly didn't know the last time he'd been to work. The FBI Agent had been so depressed lately he never even had the energy to get out of bed. And Scully never came to check on him anymore so he was alone. Skinner was the head of the whole fucking FBI so why should he take time out of his already busy-as-shit day to come baby Mulder? He didn't know why he counted on them anymore. They had better things to do than worry about some sad dude that never came to work.

Mulder sucked in oxygen, his breath shaking. He was physically trembling, his mind screaming KILL YOURSELF NO ONE LIKES YOU NO ONE LOVES YOU ALL OF YOUR FAMILY IS DEAD YOU'RE JUST A JOKE TO OTHER PEOPLE ALL YOU DO IS SIT AROUND ALL DAY AND ACT SELFISH AND STUPID BECAUSE OF PETTY JEALOUSY DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE

Mulder began to cry. He buried his face in his hands, sobs racking his body as the thoughts shook his brain to the core like a rumbling train on broken tracks. He wanted to die. Mulder had always told himself that he would never commit suicide because he had something to live for but now? Everyone he loved was dead or gone. His sister, his father, his mother, Diana, Scully, Skinner... and aliens and UFOs? Was he serious? That wasn't something to live for. Mulder was a pathetic excuse for an FBI Agent. He was surprised no one in the bureau had put a sniper on him already. Why cause trouble with the government if no one listened? His point on earth was invalid now, and he really just wanted the pain to end.

This wasn't a "permanent solution to a temporary problem." This was a "temporary solution to a permanent problem." Who knows, maybe he'd get reincarnated into a jaguar or some shit. Wouldn't that be awesome. Much better than living like this for the rest of his life (which he knew he would). Forty or fifty more years of torture didn't seem very appealing. He'd rather get it over with now than wait out his inevitable death for the rest of his life.

Mulder did wonder. He looked down at the table in front of the couch, the television screen illuminating the objects on there. A bottle of beer, a packet of cigarettes (plus three empty ones), and his gun in his holster. It felt like a stone was weighing him down in his stomach as the FBI Agent reached forward, letting the weapon slide into his hands. Mulder examined it for a while, running his fingers over the edges and wondering, Is this right to do? But it seemed so right. No one would really even notice, anyway. Good riddance.

Mulder tilted it and opened his mouth. The gun felt cold and metallic against his tongue, pointed in an upward direction toward his brain. He could hardly even hold the damn thing straight he was shaking so badly. His shattered heart pumped heavily in his chest, ringing in his ears and clouding everything he'd just been thinking. The panic nearly sent him off the edge, Mulder wondering if it would be better to just throw himself out of the window. No, that wouldn't work, it would only break his bones. Shooting himself was really the only thing he could do, and hanging himself wasn't too appealing either. So it had to be this.

Beads of sweet dripped from his forehead. Tears were still evident in his hazel eyes, running down his face. He was about to kill himself. Mulder was about to kill himself. The one thing he'd always told himself he wasn't going to do he was going to do. That's what scared him the most. He was losing himself and everything he had once been. Without Scully here to guide him, there was no purpose on this earth for him.

KILL YOURSELF

He didn't want to.

YOU HAVE NO REASON TO LIVE

What if Samantha was still alive?

NO ONE LOVES YOU

Scully loved him.

YOU'RE JUST AN ANNOYANCE TO EVERYONE.

That got him. His throat dried up, more tears specking his eyes. Mulder's lip trembled as his finger curled around the trigger, his mind screaming DO IT DO IT DO IT but his heart yelling NO STOP IT THIS IS HORRIBLE AND SELFISH

Mulder pulled the trigger.

His eyes were screwed shut, the man imagining the pain hitting him like a rocket. He wondered what would happen if this shot didn't kill him. He'd probably never be able to work or even think straight again. So this had to be right. This had to be the bullet that killed him.

This wasn't the bullet that killed him. In fact, there was no bullet that was going to kill him.

His gun was empty.

Mulder's eyes reopened and he found himself in the same spot he'd been most of the night. He was still facing the television, the gun lodged inside his mouth. Tears began to run fresh down his cheeks as he slid the weapon away from his jaws, choking out a sob. He checked if it was loaded and it fucking wasn't loaded. No bullets or anything. Just his luck. 

The brown-haired man didn't cry after that. He set the gun down, turned the television off and laid back down in bed. Mulder didn't bother checking the time, it simply didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. The depression was so bad Mulder hardly felt anything at this point. The endless void in his head was like an empty universe now.

He wondered if God had saved him. Mulder didn't usually believe in that sort of stuff—he definitely wasn't religious or part of a religion—but this was odd. These weird instances had happened several times during his lifetime but he'd just pushed them into the corner of coincidences. In his line of work, nothing was a coincidence. So why was he saying it was? Was he just too afraid to believe, like Scully? That really made him think that night.

Maybe it had been God. Maybe it had been nothing but a coincidence. At this point he didn't care. Mulder wasn't grateful or angry he was alive. He was just empty, nothingness swallowing him whole again. His hazel eyes fluttered shut, his trembling ceasing and his heart beat eventually calming down. The FBI Agent let out one more small sigh before the darkness of sleep overcame him. And this time, Mulder let it sink in.


End file.
